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In reply to: Significant Random Quotes?
Mention of myopic and fishnets in the story, the day before I went on the laser eye surgery; on the metro, sitting right in front of us, a lady (speaking in English), with red glasses, a green and red flower patterned dress, and lime fishnets…
In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
As far as the Ooh-dimension was concerned, the shift of Vowellness was probably complete
“Thank Flove for that!” Ann (or was it Elizabeth?) exclamied. She continued to read the contents of the large manila envelope that had been delivered several weeks late due to the postal strike.
“Postal strike?” Gordon (or was it Godfrey?) inquired sarcastically. “Ann ~ or is it Liz? ~ surely you just made that up! Do you need an excuse?”
LizAnn chose to ignore her old freind Pig Littleton and continued to read.
And she couldn’t find anything new being published by Ms Tattler in all now probable directions she was looking into.
LizAnn snorted.
She was of course ignoring the disrupted echoes from the Jumbled Eights thread, which were probably the brainstorming board of ideas of the writer, which she had the greatest difficulty to follow (she wondered if even the writer could).
Reaching for her handkerchief, LizAnn snorted again. “No the writer bloody can’t follow it” she muttered. “But does it bloody matter!”
Her own thread and the details of the history of the Wrick family was always sketchy and full of holes;
“Aha Ha Ha Ha”
she’d attempted at learning more about the elusive Becky , but she kept blinking in and out of continuity, too quickly for her to follow her anywhere in her explorations
“Yes, where the devil IS Becky, Gordfry? or is it Godon?”
In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
Margaret reckoned she’d made a rather amusing essence, whose vibrational tone translated as the name Pigoosus. A dirty park littered with pigeons droppings had been so full that she had barely noticed the “ubiquitously absent” Finnley…
The inspiration to take a break from that strange coollage of magpies was full of surprises, indeed still in fairy land, apparently with some invisible being that she was considering working with. Hesitant at publishing her book, Finnley swore out loud at that Mr Arak, forcing her to work with Al.
Finnley was still wondering who this Al was. Perhaps he had a damn good coontract.
In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
The myopic Finnley DIDN’T wear fishnet stockings.
Unable to resist the library, and in a tutu, he was just hoping that he did the right thing in sending the staff before dinner to the stables.
Finnley, in the library, before dinner, waited.
“Damn it!” Finnley muttered. “I can’t do it alone”.
A master in karate, a surge of adrenaline overflowed his mind and all he remembered was he was bald.
NOTE : Well. By the time I took out all the pornographic stuff there wasn’t much left to work with.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
Peackle Handlebut wasn’t really that old hag of a lady she projected the appearance of, but she preferred to test the sincerity of people through this rather crude means.
In fact, she wasn’t a lady or a human at all. She was an E’elim, as they called their race when they had use for words. Their true form wasn’t really physical, and their existence was mostly ignored — a fact that was not a small feat, for even the ancient race of the Guardians mostly didn’t know of them at the time when they were in the system of Alienor.
In fact, their consciousness was quite different from the rest of the races, and in many ways, it was one of the most ancient one, having been present for countless ages.
They’d known the times of the appearance of the third moon around Duane.
They had even witnessed the emergence of that third planet, which is now mostly forgotten, but was then called B’si before it was called Phreal by the Guardians.
And they were there at the time of the separation of the Great Panye into the twin planets now known as Duane and Murtuane.The E’elims where riders of the elements; usually only one of the six elements from which everything stemmed: airs, earths, woods, flames, waters, and forgotten (or spirit).
Learning to ride dragons was something new for Peackle, as they were powerful blends of the purest forms of these elements, and she was wanting to take the risk of revealing herself to have that experience…In reply to: Strings of Nines
New Venice, October 2117
Now, where were we? Midora suddenly felt that the need for an agenda was called for. Spread out in front of her were a few collages and some balls of energy from all the links and connections she had found in the stories of her ancestors and gathered so far.
Since her fathers Oscar and Bart had adopted the twins Hari and Jacq, her usually tidy room had been a mess. Fortunately, the adoption was almost complete, and in a mere week, the twins would then be able to choose another family, which they made clear they intended to do. She felt so appreciative that adoption was no longer bound by traditional laws of responsibility of the parents and ridden by culpability; instead, it was a healthier cooperation between the parents and children, and children were free to go with other families if they felt the desire for a different experience.
When they’d adopted Hari and Jacq, Bart and Oscar had wanted for a continuation of the experience of bringing up children, which they did not have for a long time with Midora, as she was quite independent from an early age. And in truth, Jacq and Hari were very interactive and playful, and to be perfectly honest, quite a handful; in a few weeks, the apartment would surely seem deserted and empty.So, during that time, Midora’s researches on the stories had been put to a halt, and a lots of her energy balls which were usually neatly ordered on her lightboard were now merged for some, changed of forms for others… all thanks to her half-bros. She barely knew were to start to get a better view of it now.
Let me see… there were a few threads going on there, and all we need is untangle some of them…
She’d had fun reconnecting with the “Island of Dr Transvestite” theme, but now she found out, her favorite characters Shar and Glor, were now disembodied, stranded in transition, and perhaps waiting to be reborn to a nine-titted alien in the Worseversity after failed attempts of channeling. So far, no signs of developments for them though.
As far as the Ooh-dimension was concerned, the shift of Vowellness was probably complete, and she couldn’t find anything new being published by Ms Tattler in all now probable directions she was looking into. She was of course ignoring the disrupted echoes from the Jumbled Eights thread, which were probably the brainstorming board of ideas of the writer, which she had the greatest difficulty to follow (she wondered if even the writer could).
Her own thread and the details of the history of the Wrick family was always sketchy and full of holes; she’d attempted at learning more about the elusive Becky , but she kept blinking in and out of continuity, too quickly for her to follow her anywhere in her explorations.
Oh, and the Alienor dimension was still going on, though most of its development wasn’t yet showing up. What had happened of Arona, Franiel, Irtak’s father, the gripshawk? And now that Malvina was gone too… She’d found Mrs Chesterhope after her strange amnesiac shapeshifting accident however; and that was encouraging.
So strange, all of these characters are so alive, she thought fondly, and yet none of them seem motivated enough to project themselves out with force and steadiness into her energy balls which still had a sort of blurriness and haphazardness to them.
She made the intent to project more energy in the direction of stabilizing the currents of the strands of stories, and the energy balls’ colors started to shimmer lightly. That was certainly the way to go. Which one would be the most alluring to explore and follow?
In reply to: Strings of Nines
It was not before Leörmn suggested at Irtak the overlooked possibility that Irtak seriously considered the option.
After all, the batty toothless woman who had come forth (almost in jest it had seemed at first) wasn’t really an obvious choice to make a dragon rider of the twin Heckle and Jeckle.Well, who was he to judge anyway? He was even starting to find the idea less and less incongruous. She would perhaps make for a good companion.
As they said, dragon breeders may just be failed dragon riders, but Irtak wasn’t sure that it was close to the truth, or any truth for that matter.As his choice was finally made, he took a carrier fincheon from a cage smelling of bird’s droppings and started to write on a piece of torn and pissy parchment with a crow’s feather to Lady Peackle Handlebut.
In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
“Jig up in a tree!” Armelle said quickly, scratching her wings on top of the grinning Snoot.
“The Snoot has been expecting those nasty buggers”, Gloria said sadly as a magpie started to wave.
“STAY CLEAR!” the magpie giggled. She beamed at Gloria. The confusion was now clear. She could feel it. She could consume it and become one with Armelle and the Snoot and Yuki and Rafaela , Anita, the spiders, Akayli, the werelynx, the mummified parents, Claude.
“The good thing is”, the Snoot whispered to Armelle, “you may have noticed i am twice my usual size and I may be more than happy to lend Al Becky’s children, ingested a few days before the conception”.
In reply to: Strings of Nines
Leörmn was growing tired of spawning eggs and offspring. He decided for an early retirement in the Cave of Probable Wonders.
In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
There was a light on in the office. Perhaps the sun doesn’t shine?
Finnley cheered up Elizabeth and offered congratulations to the others not chosen to succeed.
“Listen to your heart and remember that I sprinkle you with bottled water.”
She had no idea what happened, but she suspected a couple of guests locked in the closet, and on the run, had been tiring. As Dr Lemane, the sniggley one said, “It’s a bit odd, don’t you think?”
In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
Prim wandered through the Fountains of Tea thoughtfully. Gay smiled, and snorted with a sinister chuckle, leave it to uncle. Things are coming together in a Glamour Bomb knot today, it’s hot.
In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
People who unlock this chamber will also wonder: do we know Becky?
She decided to explain about analytical sounds. Obliviousness had seen her smile in other interesting roles of her focus Lola Finn. In the need to feel her warm body, a small shower of thought had cleared now, and everything had a gentle sigh.In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
“And so, my deep melodic voice did soothe 123 white ferrets streaking through the airport lounge.” she said.
Becky was inspired by the courageous example of Finn.
In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
#1198
Al was visibly deranged finding Becky scantily clad. Well, wait for him to shave, he smiled. Becky might eat some nuts, wondering why she had not thought of that in the first place. Becky had always been reluctant, or perhaps just forgetful.A clap made her moan in a silky voice, she felt energy crawl underneath her sabulmantium. It was Man, a distinctive pack of magic. What an impossible florid and baroque little marmoset playing a mouth harp.
Arona felt like beating dragons. She almost stopped in anticipation of a pile of conic shaped dirty sand, soil from the cave, the dragons doing. They are disagreeable kind of creature, made her dizzy.
The dragons had disappeared. Arona snapped to no one in particular, you will see how easy it is to come back if you feel so inclined.
At her touch, the dragon started to enclose a circle of sand, a curvy symbol.
The interior of the cave was out of focus, in all its splendor…
Fuck the babbled excuses, her own sloppy children wearing a potatoes sack. Sure Gabriele had noticed that nurse Bellamy in my room. Professional women made silky rope disappear.
Sure, more security, she had to be more careful about Barbella Bee-hive. I don’t like that Barbella. Perhaps it’s the kinky wrists tying games…
In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
(same random quote as above link #87)
Actually, thinking of Dory made Quintin remember:
“They are really bit rude around here”.
Dory stretched and yawned, and took in in a cloud of dust.
Dory wondered out loud if she should have an older man with curly grey hair and a long maroon djelaba and a tall narrow brimless black hat and watch him get laid.
I am so easy really, she thought giving it a last fond stroke. She finally surfaced from the flapping tangle of cloth just in time to see a group of people squatting next to a large oblong hole in the ground.
PFFFFFT! Deserted again.
Dory was getting bored waiting for this motley crew, looking slightly bemused, but smiling happily, she set off in search of Dory.
In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
#87 Quintin had a woman near London ~ a strange small replicate, put here for gracious officials. Strangely linked to the story, was Dory. The other participants didn’t really expect this quaint dream…
Dory made Quintin in Madagascar for the first time. Funny, but now they seemed to connect to Arona. Malvina disappeared, and once again Arona found this quite irritating. She could barely remember the music.
Really, things are shifting. In the name of heaven use magic I Scream or something!
A Man emerged from Arona’s lap. This is great, more comfortable than the ground.
Oh cute, said Arona, a talking Man, love your cape by the way.
Arona stroked Man. It was all feeling heat and humidity… and especially her hunger. Man sighed in an eggs sort of a way. She exclaimed delightedly, hugging the Man.
[¹] Note from the editor: Man being a noble reader
~~~~
Dory was dry, with strange hard shoulders and face. Her shawl finally surfaced flapping in time to a cloud of dust.
PPFFT! I’m all on my own. Dory was momentarily speechless.
In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
Though the more Ann thought about Monica, the funnier it seemed. Guilt was such a tiresome emotion.
“Fancy old Bronkel deciding to go for a sex change! I must have sensed something when I wrote him in as the crazy, brilliant, cross dressing Dr Bronkelhampton in the Island novel!”
She thought for a moment, “did I ever finish that novel?”
Ann sighed. What was she like eh! Always starting novels, never finishing them. No wonder old Bronkel, ahem, Monica, got so fed up with her.
Anyway, perhaps she would give Monica another chance as her pooblisher? He … she… was certainly much kinder and easier to deal with now. That Godfrey, or whatever the heck his name is, wasn’t doing much for her career.
The writer wondered again how to strike out text and correct the inadvertent slip into the Ooh dimension.
An idea for another novel was forming in the murky convoluted depths of Ann’s brain, something about a gorgeously cuddly big teddy bear man, with his unruly tumble of brown curls and his colourful FairIsle sweaters, who had flown the nest from a potato farm in deepest darkest Idaho to pursue his dream of being an Elsespace Guide at the Worserversity.
“Brilliant, Moonica will loove it!”
In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
Ann felt a bit guilty for being so rude to Monica, but it had made her laugh, so it was worth it. She had made it sound as if it was a big secret why she was feeling odd, but the fact of the matter was she wasn’t really feeling odd anymore, and was bored with talking about it.
As well, she was remembering what Walter had said to her (or was it Harvey? The gorgously cuddley big teddy bear man, with his unruly tumble of brown curls and his colourful FairIsle sweaters, who had flown the nest from a potato farm in deepest darkest Idaho to pursue his dream of being an Elsespace Guide at the Worserversity.)
In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
“Ahaha, dear Ann is really acting funny since her latest plastic surgery… I wonder if her new implants weren’t taken from some part of her head…”
“How unusually snarky of you, dear” (the author of previous comment will of course remain unnamed for fear of reprisal)
Harvey pondered for a moment “Well, that’s not at all a silly question, I don’t know really how we’ve become best friends… I think it was after you picked up a sodden mandarin on that shelf and I told you about the strong déjà vu of that scene”
“Really? I thought it was after we met during that Magritte’s exhibit?”
“Well, who cares really, I think we already knew each other from somewhen before.”
In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
“Hang on a minute Harvey,” said Lavender excitedly, “Ann is trying to telepathically communicate with me! …… Oh, she wants to know who YOU are!”
“What did you say?”
“The truth of course. I told her I have no idea. Why that rude tart! She says I have been bashing her … well, have I been bashing her do you think Harvey?”
Harvey looked thoughtful. “Well you were a bit I suppose. You called her tortured. That wasn’t very kind was it?”
“hmmmmph, torturous more like. Oh well fair point, but I did try praising her last novel over lunch, and she went all green in the face and said if I didn’t stop being so nice she would throw-up in her spaghetti! …. anyway who are you Harvey and how come we are living together?”
“No idea, who are you?”
“It is a bit of a mystery isn’t it … remember how we were best friends and you didn’t even know my name for years? How ODD!”
